


So Here's the Truth

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Davey – David,Davidbecause he's not going to keep thinking of himself by the name Jack goddamn Kelly gave him – is furious. He's never been this mad in his life. He's never been this hurt.God, that stupidboy.
Relationships: Implied David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins & David Jacobs
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	So Here's the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this, I was feeling inspired by the second verse of the Truth About the Moon. Somewhere in the middle, it took a left turn into being about Race and Davey dealing with the aftermath of the rally. Clearly somewhere in writing Newsies fic I got attached to the potential in a Race-Davey friendship.  
> I'm so hung up on the fact that there's no scene between Jack's betrayal and Once and For All, guys. (Something to Believe in doesn't count because while it's sweet, it does NOT justify Davey and Race and the boys suddenly trusting Jack again.) So here's my SECOND missing scene fic about that point in the story. It pulls sliiiiiiiightly au but is largely canon compatible. This fic also contains more cursing than any other fic I've ever written, I think. So that's fun.

Davey – _David_ , because he’ll be damned if he keeps thinking of himself with the nickname that _god damned boy_ gave him – is furious. He’s been walking aimlessly since he left the rally, trying to work off some of the energy that’s buzzing through him. He can’t stand still, he feels like he can barely breathe.

That _fucking boy_.

He’s been so stupid. So unbelievably stupid.

He let himself get caught up in this idea, this ridiculous idea – and the worst part is that he really, deeply believes in it. Still, even after everything he believes it. And he kind of hates himself for that, but not as much as he hates –

 _Fuck_.

David isn’t even sure he does hate Jack, really. He really wishes he could, and he is angrier than he’s ever been in his life, but Jack is something else. Jack’s the source, right now, of a lot of very complicated thoughts and emotions that are hovering somewhere between making David want to cry and making David want to hunt Jack down and deck him.

When that thought first occurred to David he almost laughed, because a week ago he’d never have thought to hit anyone, even someone who’d betrayed him as sharply and deeply as Jack. David’s a talker, and his weapon of choice has always been words.

But by god, these newsies have rubbed off on him.

 _Jack_ has rubbed off on him.

And David is honestly dying to punch Jack right now.

Only that isn’t practical, isn’t the most mature way to handle this situation, isn’t even possible because he doesn’t have half a clue where Jack is and he doesn’t want to. He’s almost certain he never wants to see Jack again in his god damned life.

He hasn’t gone home yet, even though it’s well past dark and the rally’s been over for hours. He doesn’t want to inflict his foul mood on his family, he doesn’t want his parents and siblings worrying about him.

His family is probably already worrying about him, he thinks bitterly, because Les will be long since home by now. After Jack’s abrupt departure from the rally, David had shoved Les into Race’s arms and made for the door. He trusts Race to protect his little brother. Race is whip smart and fast as hell, and Les latched onto him almost immediately. He’d known, without having to ask or tell Race where he was going, that Race would make sure Les got home safe.

Never mind whether David gets home safe.

It’s late, and the moon is bright above him and –

God, he can’t even look at the moon without thinking of Jack _fucking_ Kelly. Because between convincing everyone to strike and then executing that strike and then _fucking betraying that same god damned strike_ , all Jack can talk about is Santa Fe, New Mexico – a place he’s never been and David had been half convinced he doesn’t even _really_ want to go. He likes the idea of running away, getting out of the city to clean air and open skies, but David’s always assumed he was too loyal to his boys to actually leave. One way or another, he’s always going on about how clear the sky is, how the moon looks bigger out in the desert.

So now, David’s staring up at the moon as he walks and it’s all just flooding back to him. The way Jack’s eyes get small and squinty when he’s really smiling, the way his eyebrows push together when he’s thinking, the soft, misty tone his voice takes on when he’s fantasizing. And God, does David want to hate it.

He can’t believe – he honestly, truly can’t believe – that he’d thought Jack wouldn’t leave given the right opportunity. He should have seen right through Jack’s mask, he should have known what kind of boy he was. He should have known.

At the same time, though, David has never seen as much money in one place in his entire life than the stack of bills Jack took from Pulitzer’s lackey. Even if Jack _were_ the kind of boy David had thought he was – which, of course, he isn’t – it wouldn’t be unbelievable that that amount of money would’ve swayed him anyway. When you’re as desperately poor as Jack is –

Well, desperation and personal morals don’t always walk hand in hand.

As much as David hates to admit it, that much money probably would’ve even given _him_ pause. But it’s all so much bigger than just him and his family, bigger than Jack fucking Kelly, and if the strike’s leaders can’t hold firm how the hell are they supposed to expect anybody else to?

He’s on the verge of screaming out loud in frustration and confusion when somebody steps out in front of him. He almost screams from shock instead.

“Davey?” It’s Race, the cigar in his hand half finished. “Dave, what are you doing back here? It’s the middle of the night!”

It’s only then that David realizes where he’s ended up – just outside the newsboys lodging house, fully a fifteen minute walk from his home. He didn’t come here on purpose, but his feet have been making their own decisions for the better part of three hours now. “Did you get Les home alright?”

“A’course I did, what kinda question is that?” says Race. “He’s worried sick about you, though. An’ your ma wasn’t happy you weren’t with ‘im.”

 _“I’m_ not really enjoying being around myself right now, but since that’s unavoidable I’m trying not to inflict it on anyone else, “David replies, looking somewhere unfocused over Race’s shoulder. “I haven’t gone home yet.”

“It’s been hours,” Race says quietly. He’s shifting anxiously foot to foot. “It’s been _hours_ , Davey. You gotta go home.”

“And do what, Race?” David snaps. “Pace a hole through my parents’ living room floor? Keep Les up all night?” He exhales forcefully through his nose. “No. I’m not going home until I can get my brain to shut up.”

He turns on his heel to walk away, but Race grabs his arm. “I know you’re shaken up, but you can’t just keep wandering. You wanna clear your head? Talk to me. Have a smoke. Just don’t – the boys’d kill me if they knew I let you leave in this state.” His fingers dig into David’s forearm. “I’d never forgive myself if I let you get hurt ‘cause you’re distracted. If you ain’t goin’ home, you ain’t leavin’.”

“Race –“

“Jack’s a fucking asshole, isn’t he?” Race cuts in. “After all this time, he sells us out. Ain’t just you hurtin’, Daves.”

David hesitates. He really wants to pull away, to keep wandering and wallowing in his own frustration and hurt, but there’s something in Race’s eyes that keeps him here. He knows the only outcome continuing to walk will have is sore feet and exhaustion when it’s time to work tomorrow, and he can see his own pain reflected back at him on Race’s face.

There’s a reason the sixteen-year-old is outside smoking alone at eleven pm when everybody else is inside, after all.

David relaxes, exhaling heavily. “He really is.”

Race sits back down on the front steps, where he’d been before he saw David coming. David falls next to him, sprawling a little awkwardly.

“Fuck, I haven’t been off my feet since before the rally,” David says.

Race nudges him with his shoulder. “You are somethin’ else, man. Most’a us would just go pick a fight. Get a couple hits in, get a little banged up. Ain’t exactly constructive, but ya feel better. Don’t keep ya up half the night.”

“Does if you hurt too much to sleep,” says David.

“There are some flaws in the plan,” Race admits, shrugging. “Still, if ya gonna self destruct, it’s easier if it’s fast.”

“I’m not self destructing,” David replies, but it’s a lie and they both know it. “I just needed time to think.”

“All you do is think,” Race says. He grabs David’s hat and ruffles his hair. “Get outta that head, Jacobs.”

“And into a fight?”

“Nah. Not your scene.”

David sighs, letting his head fall onto his knees. “If I never see Jack again it’ll be too soon.”

“You kiddin’ me, man? I want to see Jack more than I want anything in the world,” says Race. He pauses, and doesn’t speak again until he’s let out a cloud of smoke. “Never wanted to soak somebody more in my _life_.”

That draws a laugh from David, more or less despite himself. Race elbows him.

“Hey, that’s a nice sound,” says Race. “But yeah, Jack’s a dick. He’s – I never would’a pegged him for this kinda traitor though. He’s always looked out for us.”

He sounds so _young_ right now. David feels shitty for his own sake, obviously, but right now he’s also absolutely aching for Race and the other kids. Cause, God, Jack was David’s partner and his balance but he was so much more than that to the other newsboys – he was a leader, a brother, a defender. And now he’s none of that.

Not to any of them.

David hooks an arm around Race, pulling him close. Race had been Jack’s second. With Jack gone, he’s going to have to step up. He’ll have David at his side, but David doesn’t have the reputation or the presence to take this responsibility off his shoulders fully.

“I’m really sorry, Racer,” he says, voice low.

“Ain’t your fault, Dave,” Race replies. He leans into the half-hug anyway, soaking up the comfort David’s offering. “You got screwed, too.”

“We really did, didn’t we?” says David. “God, this fucking sucks.”

They sit like that for a while; Race still smoking and David just trying to pull himself together. They don’t really talk.

There’s a sound of approaching footsteps, and both David and Race tense up. The tension doesn’t dissipate when they see who it is.

“Oh, good, Race, I was lookin’ for - fuck, Davey, what are you doin’ here this late?” Jack says when he sees them. Katherine’s with him, but she’s hanging back a little.

Race is on his feet in an instant, taking a well-deserved swing at Jack. Jack doesn’t dodge or block him; he takes the hit and looks ready for another that Race is ready to give him but David catches Race’s arm.

“Walk me home, Race?” he says. He doesn’t even look at Jack. “It’s awful late.”

Race whips around to look at David. “Davey – _Davey_ , he ain’t even fightin’ back.”

“So he’s not worth busting up your knuckles on,” David replies quietly. “Come on, Race. I don’t have the energy to deal with backstabbing assholes right now.”

“I know it don’t mean much,” Jack says, and he sounds so broken it takes everything David has not to look away from Race, “but I’m sorry. I fucked the two’a you over, and I didn’t even hang around enough to tell you why.”

Race is practically vibrating with energy. David is forcing himself to breathe normally through his own.

“We’re going to try to save the movement,” Katherine says. Race and David both look at her in a single synchronized movement. She’s still a few steps behind Jack, but she doesn’t back down at their thunderous expressions. “I had an idea for a way to get the word out for one last push. But we need help.”

“Why should we help _you_?” Race spits. David’s still got a firm grip on him, but he can’t find his own words. “Nothing would need saving if _he_ didn’t sell us out in the first place.”

“Race –“

“Crutchie’s in the god damned Refuge because of your stupid strike, Jack!” says Race. “He’s hurt bad, and it’s all on you. And you’s just gonna turn your back on him? On the rest’a us?” His voice breaks and he looks back at David for support. “I really thought you were better than that, Jack.”

“Pulitzer threatened Crutchie,” Jack says dully. “An’ he threatened you, Davey. And Les. And all the rest’a you boys. I wasn’t gonna take the money, but I wasn’t gonna let any’a yous get hurt any worse because’a me.”

“Quite frankly, Jackie, you’ve done a spectacularly shitty job of that,” David finally says. “You had to know the rest of us weren’t gonna give up just because you stabbed us in the back. We don’t fucking _need you_.” He’s suddenly aware his fingers are digging into Race’s arm so much that it probably hurts, and he forces himself to take a breath and release. “God, Jack. Race and I are both –“

“I’m sorry,” Jack repeats. He takes a step forward, reaching for David. As he gets closer, David can see that his cheek is red where Race’s fist made contact. It’ll probably bruise. “I’m so, so sorry. Please, Davey, let me make it right. I gotta make it right.”

David flinches away instinctively when Jack’s fingers brush against his skin. Jack recoils a little, but doesn’t move fully away.

“Look - Davey, Race. If the two’a you never forgive me that’s – I’ll have deserved that, I think,” says Jack. “But Kath’s idea is a good one, and it might make all this – it might work. We wanna print our own paper, call for a citywide strike of workin’ kids. We need hands – people to help us print, people to distribute. Please.”

Race and David look at each other. They’re both still angry, both still stung by Jack’s betrayal earlier tonight. But neither of them is willing to take the chance that this could’ve saved them. David can see it in Race’s eyes; he’s dying to believe Jack’s had their best interests in mind the whole time.

And fuck it all, David can’t say no to Jack Kelly.

“Alright,” David says. “Where are we printing this?”

Jack’s relief is almost tangible. “There’s an old press in the cellar at the World. Gonna use Joe’s own equipment against’im.”

“None’a us knows how to print a newspaper,” Race points out.

“I’ve got that covered,” Katherine says. “In fact, I’m leaving now to go get help on that front. I’ll see you boys there.”

She moves forward, finally, to kiss Jack on the cheek. Then she’s gone.

David tries to ignore the ache in his chest at the sight. He’d rather be mad at Jack than –

He takes a breath, slow and steady. In, out. Race glances at him, his expression sympathetic.

“Can you two wake the boys?” Jack asks. “They probably ain’t gonna take well to me right now.”

“No, I can’t say they would,” David says coolly. “We’ll get them. Are we meeting at the World?”

“In, say, an hour,” Jack replies by way of agreement.

Race starts to move away, pulling David with him. They’re going back toward the front steps of the lodging house, when Jack says –

“Davey?”

David turns. Race’s hand falls on his shoulder, squeezing it to pass along a little comfort. “What, Jack?”

“Racer, you mind givin’ us a minute?” Jack asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

Race’s fingers dig into David’s shoulder, but David touches his hand and he releases.

“It’s okay, Race,” David says in a low voice. “Go ahead, I’ll catch you up in a minute.”

“If you’re sure,” Race replies. He pats David’s shoulder before moving away.

Jack doesn’t speak until Race is all the way inside. “Look, Davey, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t say that again with a witness?” says David. Jack reaches for him again, catching his fingers. David doesn’t flinch away, this time, and Jack doesn’t let go.

“You an’ I both know there was somethin’ else happenin’ that needs apologizin’ for right now,” Jack replies, his voice barely a whisper.

David’s breath catches a little. He did not expect Jack to put it to words, even vague ones. “Yeah.”

“Katherine’s a good gal, and maybe it won’t last, but –“ Jack looks over his shoulder in the direction she’d gone. “It’s happening.”

“I’m happy for you,” David says. His voice is small and choked. “Kath deserves better.”

“ _You_ deserve better.”

“Say something I don’t already know, Jackie.”

Jack smiles a little sadly. “Thanks. For giving me another chance.”

“It’s not about _you_ , Jack. You said yourself that this is bigger than just the newsies. Bigger than you and me, that’s for damn sure,” says David. “If we’ve got a chance to save the cause, to make a difference for the working kids in this city, and you’re really behind it? I can’t give that up ‘cause I’m mad at you.”

“I guess I can’t argue that.” Jack brings David’s knuckles up and brushes his lips against them. “Still, I can’t help but be grateful.”

David pulls his hand away. “Jack.”

“Sorry,” Jack says again.

“I’m going to go in and help Race. I’ll see you at the World.” He gestures toward the door.

“Right.” Jack starts to walk away, but he freezes in his tracks and looks over his shoulder when David speaks again.

“And Jack?”

“Davey?”

“It’s good to have you back again.”


End file.
